She Will Be Loved
by wordsafterhours
Summary: Katniss wasn't looking for anything other than a change in life, when she returned home. However, life apparently had other plans for her by placing the one thing she had been looking for, right in front of her. Peeta Mellark, in all his entirety, captured her attention from the very start.
1. Prologue

I stared into the dancing orange flames, listening to the quiet crackling of the burning wood, contemplating when my boyfriend might waltz through the door to our penthouse. Silence had been my constant companion for what had been hours now. Today was supposed to have been a celebration but apparently that had slipped Marvel's mind—three years wasn't anything anyways.

With the final burning sip of my whiskey, I set the now empty crystal glass on the coffee table and walked into the dining room. The candles I had lit earlier were nothing but wax puddles on the table cloth and the plates of roast and vegetables cold, forgotten...much like myself. Without much more of a glance made my way to the bedroom.

Halfway through taking off my make-up, I heard the door slam and heavy foot-falls approaching. "Katniss? Where the hell you at?" the loud voiced called.

_Great, he was drunk and sounded pissed off. _"In here honey," I answered immediately. I hated when he was like this—I had the small fear in the back of my mind that he'd end up hurting me. The bathroom door pushed open, revealing Marvel with blood-shot eyes and a disheveled appearance.

"You weren't gonna wait up or what?"

"I've been waiting for hours for you, excuse me if midnight isn't late enough," I barked back, now more angry than I'd previously been.

"Whatever, quit being a bitch. A simple yes or no would have sufficed. Now can you get out, I have to take a piss," he slurred, not even waiting for me to leave before he began unzipping his pants.

The edge of the bed sunk with my weight as I sat there waiting for his next move. It had been like this for months now and I couldn't figure out what had changed. Our relationship had started out haphazardly but we'd found a rhythm, we'd been happy for a long time now, but this year had just been on the downward spiral it seemed.

Nostalgically, I walked over to our shared dresser and picked up a photo of us at the opening of Marvel's dad's company. Marvel's looking down at me and cupping my chin, a mega-watt smile on both our faces—that day had been a great one. We'd just found out that his father had promoted Marvel to marketing director, his biggest dream. The more I think about it though, we haven't been that couple in a long time.

The clunking of a shoe against the floor caught my attention. Marvel was undressing, throwing his discarded clothing on the floor, right next to the hamper. _Fucking men._

"Where were you tonight, babe?" I tried to sound concerned and not the least bit upset, but I knew it didn't come out like that when Marvel jerked his head up, his jaw clenched.

"Why does it matter? You trying to be my fucking mom or what? Just cause she's dead, doesn't mean I need another one. Seventeen years of her was enough."

"I'm not trying to be your damn mom, just your concerned girlfriend. It was our three-year anniversary tonight, I'd like to know where you were. I made dinner, bought your favorite wine and cheesecake from the bakery on the corner of Main and Murphy." My voice cracked towards the end, a tear rolling down my olive cheek.

"Work was stressful, I went out with some guys from work. Thanks for the cheesecake Kat, drinking made me hungry, that sounds like an excellent snack right now." He swayed towards me, trying to give me a kiss but I turned my cheek, his lips landing on the corner of my jaw.

"Don't start with me, a kiss isn't going to fix this! You fucked up and you can't even say sorry, you say thanks for the cheesecake? Tell me how that's okay. Are you kidding me?" Marvel stepped back and stared at me, his face becoming red and his eyes darker.

"You're such a bitch, I don't even know how we're still together. I have women all over me when I go out and at work, but I come home to this. What bullshit," he slurred, pushing past me on his way out.

"I cannot believe you just said that to me, what's your deal?" I demanded, all but running after him.

"You! You're my deal, get the fuck out of my house. I'm tired of you whining and trying to act like my mom. Quit being such a drag, you're twenty-two, not thirty."

The tears just kept rolling down my cheeks as I stood there, staring at him eating the chocolate cheesecake. This felt like the scene of a movie, not real and real just the same. He was half done with it when he finally looked up at me, "Why are you still here? I told you to get the hell out of my house?"

Not even giving him the satisfaction of a response, I turned on my heel, padding back into the bedroom. A slight chuckle escaped my lips while I packed my duffel bag with enough clothes to last me a few weeks. The essentials were thrown on top before I zipped it up, throwing it over my shoulder.

"Call me when you decide you want to be the guy I fell in love with. I don't like this new douche bag guy you've decided you want to be, Marvel. Don't bother calling me, I'll be back in a few weeks. If things are better, than maybe we can work this out. If not, I'll get all my stuff then."

Marvel acted like he was going to stop me but then stopped mid-stride, staring. "I'm taking Atlas too. You'll be completely without any responsibilities, have a good time by yourself." With that, I slapped my leg and let out a low whistle, calling the dog. The large German Shepherd ran past me and out the open door.

Three years of my life, up in the air, just like that. It was surreal and freeing all at the same time. I didn't have anywhere else to go, as my best friend Jo was out of the country at the moment. That left me with only one other option: Home.


	2. Chapter 1

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed since I'd walked out of that apartment, and Marvel hadn't called once. I wasn't sure if it was because I'd told him not to or because he really didn't care that I'd left. Either way, I didn't really care. These past weeks had been some of the most invigorating days I'd had since I'd been dating the guy. Atlas and I had seen every important site that was offered between Panem and Portland. What started out as only a ten hour drive had turned into an adventure that took my mind off of all the shortcomings that filled my life. Nothing but free time and my best friend...but it was time to go home.

I'd studiously avoided Mason for four years and the idea of actually having to go back, had me on edge. Every green sign that I'd seen in the last day pushed my heart to pound harder, faster. It's not like growing up there was awful or I had a closet full of skeletons that I'd have to face, but it was the place my family fell apart.

We lost my dad the summer before I turned sixteen, to an accident involving a lumber truck. He never had a chance. It wouldn't have been so devastating, but my mom lost it after he died. She sat for days on the back porch of our house staring out into the forest like something was out there. Eventually I decided we'd lost her too, and it was up to me to care for my sister Prim, who was only ten at the time.

I put food on the table and worked at the bakery downtown, making sure we had money to pay bills and put gas in the truck, all while my mom sat there, doing nothing for us. Just before graduation, she decided she'd wallowed in her self pity enough and began to try to mother us again. Prim loved it but I hated her for it—where was she when we needed her? When I needed her? Graduation couldn't have come soon enough after that.

I received that small black folder and two weeks later I was gone. I didn't look back in the least, I knew that Prim would be okay because my mom was back, but it was time to live my life for myself.

It was in south California, at college for Environmental Biology and Environmental Conservation, that I met Marvel almost a year later. He was the breath of fresh air I'd been looking for—he didn't ask me about my past and he never looked at me with pity because I was the sad girl who's family had fallen apart. We just had fun, and we fell in love.

For that reason alone, I guess that's why I stuck around for the last year, even though things we're falling apart. I had a innate drive to keep things together and without a doubt, I'd still be in that apartment trying act like nothing was wrong if Marvel hadn't told me to leave. But I'm glad he did, four years of running away is tiring.

"Altas, that was nasty. At least roll down the window next time," I admonished. He cocked his head and looked at me from his perch in the passenger seat, understanding nothing I had just said. For some reason, on this last three hour stretch from Portland to Mason, he had been cutting creepers like no other. I cracked the window of my truck, "Never again am I feeding you brisket tacos. Never."

It was dusk, my least favorite time of the day. I always felt like this was the in between time of the day, that it couldn't make up its mind whether it wanted to be dark or light. The beautiful orange and pink sunset had long been gone and this odd grey, blue color filled the sky, leaving an oppressive feeling behind. Dusk was a reminder of my life felt right now—on the edge, teetering between two unknowns, unable to make a go of it one way or the other.

An audible sigh graced my lips as my headlights shined on the welcome sign of my hometown. It had been freshly painted, the words "Welcome to Mason, WA. Pop. 7, 145" in bright gold lettering. _Guess someone likes it here_.

I drove down the main road with no delay, the three traffic lights all synchronously green. Everything still looked the same and it annoyed me slightly. I'd changed and seen the so many things, and here was this podunk town, still the damn same.

Gravel crunched beneath the truck tires as I pulled into the driveway of my childhood home. I cut the engine and hoped out, grabbing my duffel bag from the backseat. "Here goes nothing," I muttered to myself as I quietly stepped up the creaking wooden stairs. Atlas followed close behind, acting as uneasy as I felt. The old screen door was slightly ajar and I pushed my closed first past, knocking three times on the door.

A few seconds passed and it swung open, revealing a girl with long blond hair. "Katniss?"


	3. Chapter 2

Several awkward seconds passed as I scrambled for something to say. "Uh…. Yeah." I finally managed to squeeze out.

"Who's at the door?" a quiet voice asked from inside.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Prim held the door open wider and gestured for me to come inside.

It was like walking into a time machine. The sage green wall were still lined with the same school and family photos. The fire place was still decorated with various knick knacks and poorly painted vases that had been a school project of mine in the fifth grade. The familiarity of this house was stifling and it took all my strength not to turn and run right back out the door. How could nothing change in four years? Not a single damn thing… but me.

I glanced over the inquiring faces of my sister and mother, and finally onto a new one standing in the entrance of the kitchen. He was an older man, with soft, warm eyes and thinning golden hair. He offered a small grin and held out a basket of bread in my direction. "Cheese bun?"

The tone of his voice was rich and warm, like the taste of hot chocolate in the fall. A minute grin graced my lips and I shuffled in his direction. The buns were hot and the smell of garlic permeated my nose as I took a bite. An involuntary groan escaped as the flavors ran rampant in my mouth. "This is by far the best thing I have ever eaten."

He chuckled and extended his other hand, "Ross Mellark, glad you like them. Ol' family secret they are." I stuffed the rest of the bun in my mouth, rubbed my hand on my pants, and grasped his extended one.

"Katniss" I mumbled between chews.

"I've heard so much about you. You've been missed around here." I was expecting the first statement, but not the second. Leaving like I did should be reason enough not to miss me one bit.

"Yeah, we have missed you. So, so, so much," Prim agreed, a slight tremble in her soprano voice. Her arms embraced me from the side, squeezing tightly. The sadness was palpable. My bag fell to the floor with a thud and I returned her embrace. She was taller now but still just as thin and delicate as she'd always been. Her hug stirred a large wave of emotion and a lone tear spilt down my cheek.

"I'm sorry, I should have never left Little Duck," I whispered into her fair hair. Her head pushed further into my chest and we stood there for what could have been hours.

"Katniss, are you hungry? I was just finishing up dinner when you knocked?" Ross asked from behind us.

"Starved." He gestured at us all to follow. The small table was decorated for fall, a pumpkin and autumn leaves serving as the center piece. Several pans were on the table and a delicious aroma of pork roast wafted throughout the kitchen.

I pulled back a chair and sat directly across from Prim, kicking her feet when I felt one of them touch me. She stifled a laugh with her napkin and looked down. My mom was the last to sit and I'd almost forgotten about her. Cautiously, I peered at her, trying to gauge what she could possibly be thinking.

Her blue eyes were cast down, not looking at any of us. Her over-all appearance was tremendously improved from when I had been here last and it reminded me of my childhood—the way she should have always been. Her gold hair had some beginning streaks of grey and was pulled back, allowing me clear view of her entire face. The dark circles that had haunted me once were no longer there, her cheeks had color—she looked healthy and loved and of sound mind. Change may not have touched the house but it had definitely touched her.

"It's good to see you look like you, Mom," I praised without much thought. Immediately I looked down, clenching my fists in anticipation of her response.

"A lot's changed in four years, Katniss." I could catch a hint of anger in her soft voice but it was obvious that she didn't want to cause a problem at the moment, so I ignored it.

"Understatement of the year," muttered Prim. I wasn't quite sure why I found that so funny but I did and couldn't contain the laughing fit that ensued.

"Mashed potatoes anyone?" questioned Ross, trying to spoon a large helping onto someone's plate. Apparently, he wasn't a fan of the tension either. I shoved my plate in his direction—if his potatoes were as good as his cheese buns, I was going to eat them all.

Dinner passed rather uneventful. Ross and my mom talked quietly amongst themselves, while Prim and I played footises underneath the table. When we were all done, I volunteered to clean up the kitchen, dismissing everyone. I allowed Atlas to clean all the dishes prior to rinsing and placing them in the dishwasher.

A fire had been lit in the stone fireplace and everyone was sitting in front of it, working on a puzzle. _How domestic._

"So Ross, would it be rude for me to ask you about yourself?" I asked, sitting down next to him.

"Not at all, what do you want to know, Katniss?" he turned towards me and smiled.

"What do you do? How'd you meet my mom and Prim? Kids? You know the usual stuff that I'd know if I had been here all this time."

"Okay, I'll start with your second question. I've known your mom since she was five years old, we grew up together. Actually called her my best friend until she left for college. I moved to Mason when I divorced my wife. Been here for 'bout four years now. I have three beautiful sons, Alder, Rye, and Peeta. The two older boys live in Seattle and own their own architecture firm, while Peeta works at our bakery downtown."

_No wonder he's such a great cook and can make those cheese buns! _I mulled over his confession for a bit longer, before answering. "How badass. I guess I can thank you for the change here."

"I'd like to think so," he glanced at my mom and she smiled at him with such adoration I thought I was watching a love movie.

"Well, maybe you'll be good for me too, then," I all but whispered. Prim squeezed my hand and gave me a questioning look. A small nod of my head seemed to pacify her wonderment and she went back to working on her puzzle.

"Sounds to me like you're here for a good while then."

"Yes, sir. Needed a change of scenery from the California life—it was becoming enervating." I silently prayed that no one would ask me what I meant by that; I wasn't sure if I could handle voicing that my life had fallen apart.

"Great, that's just great to hear isn't, girls?" he pushed cheerfully, giving my mom's hand a squeeze.

My mom opened her mouth several times, like she was going to say something, but then seemingly thought better of it. I flashed her a sad smile anyways, it was clear my prior actions had left a mark on her that she wasn't quite ready to let go of. For that, I couldn't fault her, I shared that common feeling and had run away because of it.

"Where ya gonna stay, Kat?" questioned my sister. Her enthusiasm was discernable as she bounced her leg and batted her eye lashes at me.

"She'll stay here of course."

"Thank you, Mom."

"You're welcome. Your bedroom is still yours, I'll bring you some fresh linens though. Ross's son was sleeping in there for a little bit while he was fixing up the apartment above the bakery." Ross helped her up and she left down the hallway, on a mission for fresh sheets.

"Peeta will be excited to meet you, he just adores Primrose. Your mom and sister told us lots of stories about you when I first started being friends with your mom again. It's always nice to put an actual face to the person you hear about constantly." He patted my back and bent down, pressing a kiss to Prim's temple.

I didn't say anything again until he disappeared down the hallway too. "How long has that been going on?"

"Well, they were friends for a long time and this time last year, he finally had enough of Peeta pushing him to ask mommy out on a date. The rest as they say, is history."

My beautiful sister had changed so much in four years, she'd really grown up, but I could still see that needy little girl in her eyes. I pulled her into another hug and held on until she pulled away. "I'm so glad you came home, I've missed you so much. Don't ever leave me again, okay?" The deep blue of her irises became glazed as tears threatened to spill down her face, her pink bottom lip trembled.

"I won't, Little Duck. At least not without you." I hoped she could hear the conviction in my promise. Three years with Marvel and he had never once made me feel as loved as Prim did. My own foolishness and naivety had made me so blind—she was something I could never live without.

"I know you're probably tired and it's kind of late, but do you think you'll be up to coming to the bakery in the morning? On Saturday and Sunday mornings, I man the cash register. You get free pastries and food and we just have a really good time."

"I don't kn— "

"Katniss! Pleeeeeeease? It's so much fun and you'll love Peeta. He's the sweetest and when it's slow he shows me how to bake or decorate. His cakes are really beautiful, I don't get how a guy can have hands that do that," she gushed.

"Do I detect a crush?" I teased, bopping her nose.

"No! I like Rory for your information, Peeta's like my brother!" Her cheeks flamed bright red and she tugged at the hem of her sweater.

"Rory, as in Rory Hawthorne?" I asked in disbelief. Prim had hated him growing up, he constantly tugged her braids and pushed her down. Gale, my childhood best friend and Rory's brother, was constantly getting on to him for it.

"Yes, you should see him Katniss! He looks like Gale but he's leaner and his eyes a deeper grey. Besides, he doesn't pull my braids anymore… but enough with the distraction. Will you come or not?"

"Fine! But there better be cheese buns!" I acquiesced. Those damn cheese buns were going to be the death of me.

"Oh, there will be. They're one of the number one sellers at lunch. And if you thought Ross's were good, you will die when you eat Peeta's. Baking his definitely his forte."


	4. Chapter 3

_Bang, bang, bang_. "Katniss!"

I let out a loud groan at the intrusive noise. "Five more minutes!"

"Wake up, we have to be at the bakery in twenty minutes. I already let you sleep longer than I should. And I bet Atlas as to pee," my sister insisted. Atlas jumped out of bed with the sound of his name, taking the comforter with him.

"Well now I'm getting up," I quipped, throwing my legs over the side. The wooden floor was cold and I anxiously searched for my moccasin slippers that had been pushed beneath the bed. Atlas bolted out from the bedroom the moment he could fit through the door opening.

"Someone let him out, please! He won't run off very far. And Prim, before you ask, I'm getting dressed right now." My suitcase was thrown open on top of the trunk at the end of my bed. I sifted through clothes until I found my favorite pair of blue jeans and dark blue Henley.

My hair wasn't too much of a mess and I ran a few dabs of mouse into the tresses, taming the waves into a semi-smooth conformity. Three minutes later I was running into the kitchen, met by my waiting family and the plus one. "What? Let's go," I declared between huffed breaths.

We loaded into Ross's pickup, including the dog, and headed the three miles into town. The streets were dark and quiet, only the occasional light on in main-street homes. Bakers' hours were apparently too early for most.

"If I nod off during the morning, am I going to get wacked with a wooden spoon?" I joked, but still slightly serious. Prim chuckled and pushed my shoulder, giving me an incredulous look.

"Well I can't make any promises about my son but I don't think anyone in this vehicle will whap you," assured the older blonde man.

"Guess I'll take what I can get."

We took a left off Main Street down a side street and then pulled into an alley behind what I assumed was the bakery. Everyone piled out and I followed them up the stairs to a screen door illuminated by a yellow bug light.

"Stairs to the left lead up to the apartment, Atlas can stay up there or outside here if you don't think he'll run off. Customers might question the baked goods if the see a dog running around inside." I nodded and Ross continued, "This door directly in front of us leads to the kitchen area of the bakery. Just come on through after you decide what to do with this goober." He affectionately rubbed Atlas' head. My dog had more charm then I did, by far.

Being as the main road was only just a block up, I didn't trust leaving Atlas to run around outside. I patted my thigh to capture his attention and marched up the creaky, faded white stairs. The apartment smelled like vanilla, cinnamon, and a hint of bread which made sense since the ovens were directly below the floor.

Brown suede and wooden furniture filled the living room and beautiful landscape paintings lined the crème colored walls. I could feel my nosey tendencies surfacing, pushing me to further explore the dwelling but I swallowed them back down. "Don't get on the couch," I scolded the dog as I saw him sniffing at it. With one last glance over my shoulder, I headed down to the bakery.

_Warm._ That was the first thought that crossed my mind when I pushed open the door into the kitchen. Several large ovens and a stove lined the wall to my left and to my right were stainless steel tables and granite countertops. Large cooling racks and shelves were on the opposite wall in front of me, with utensils I didn't even begin to have names for.

No one was currently in the kitchen even though there was several sets of dough on the tables and the commercial mixer off in the corner, mixing something at a rapid pace. I moved forward, peering through the small countertop window, spying my sister and mother sweeping the front and Ross talking to someone I couldn't see because his back was occluding my view.

"You let a dog into the apartment? Dad, what if he eats the trash or gets in my bed?" the voice, who I assumed belonged to Peeta, questioned as I approached.

"Yes, I provided the option for the dog to stay up there. He's well mannered, the worst—" I took the opportunity to jump in and save Ross from having to defend my dog.

"He's the most well-mannered dog you'll ever meet—even shakes hands if you introduce yourself," I boasted while coming around the corner.

Ross turned around at this, revealing a rather handsome man perched on the edge of a table. He had broad shoulders and well-defined biceps, flour haphazardly littered his arms. Blonde curls stuck to his forehead and as he looked up, I held in a gasp. His eyes were the most unusual and piercing blue I had seen yet. Marvel had had beautiful blue eyes but this man's surpassed his in incalculable lengths. He jumped up immediately, wiping his hand and extending it in my direction.

"Peeta," he declared.

"The runaway daughter, Katniss," I informed him whilst shaking his hand. He chuckled, a light red coloring his cheeks.

"Nice to finally see the real person to put the name to. I've seen pictures but they never really do justice, do they?"

"I suppose not," I concurred.

Prim took this moment to pop into the conversation, making things all the more awkward. "Told you she was something." Both I and Peeta coughed, apparently both caught off guard by her statement. He scratched the back of his neck and headed past us, into the kitchen.

I glared at Prim, raising my eyebrows, silently asking her what that was about. She grinned even wider and shrugged her shoulders, walking past me into the back as well.

"Uh, is there anything I can do to help?" I turned to Ross, who was staring lovingly in my mom's direction.

"Have you ever made cinnamon rolls, Katniss?"

"No, why?"

I'd been through three batches of dough in two hours and still had yet to figure out how to roll it right. Mixing it was easy. Butter, cinnamon, sugar…all that was easy too. Rolling it up and cutting it into segments was on the opposite end of the spectrum. I was spitting mad by the time I'd gotten to my fourth attempt.

"God da—mammit," I corrected while unrolling the dough for the fourth time now. I could hear snickers in the background, obviously amusing the peanut gallery.

"Glad you guys find this so damn funny, how about one of you help me out!" I barked, wiping sweat off my brow. A chime from the front rung out, effectively saving Prim and my mother. Ross turned back to decorating cookies, leaving Peeta.

"You have to do it slow, making sure you get an even and snug roll. It helps it keep shape and cut easier. You're being too rough and in a hurry," he informed me. I tried once more and was even worse than before, the shape ending up as a cone instead of a cylinder.

"Just so you know, I almost failed geometry my sophomore year of high school." He laughed and finally approached my work station. His muscled arms came around mine, his front to my back, enclosing me against the table. I stiffened at the contact, holding my breath in anticipation of what was going to take place next.

"Let me see your hands," he whispered into my ear, his soft breath fanning against my neck. Goose bumps surfaced and I silently prayed he couldn't see them. I did as he asked and placed my hands in his large, flour covered ones. With our joined hands, he unrolled the dough, smoothing out the sugar and cinnamon mixture, as well as creases my ill attempts had created.

"Think of rolling dough as petting a dog. You don't pet them in a hurried or rough manner, you stroke their fur in long, tender strokes. It lets them know you love them. This is the same way. You're too worried about it trying to be perfect, that you spoil the art. You don't think about petting your dog a certain way do you?" his warm voiced questioned.

"No, I just do it."

"Exactly! Quit thinking so hard about trying to roll it up and you'll get it." Our hands moved together, starting at the left edge, curling the dough against itself…before I knew it, the dough was in a perfect cylinder.

"I did it! I did it!" I exclaimed loudly, making him jump back.

"Yes, you did. I'm going to make you roll all of them from now on."

I glanced over my shoulder, to make sure he was kidding. He wore a thousand-watt smile and let out a small laugh when he saw my horrified expression. "I'm just kidding with you Katniss, you can only roll them if you want to."

With a small nod and smile of my own, I turned back to the task at hand. Cutting the roll into appropriate segments. Slowly and without too much thought, I finished up the rolls and placed them on a baking sheet for Peeta to place in the oven.

He walked by, caring a sheet of what looked like uncooked cheese buns and my interest was instantly peaked. His hand grasped the cinnamon rolls and he carried them to the over with practiced finesse, placing them in their respective ovens with ease.

I watched him unabashedly, intrigued in the entirety of him. In the three hours I'd been acquainted with Peeta Mellark, he had somehow, left me aching to know everything about him.


	5. Chapter 4

It had been days, _days_, and I still could feel Peeta's warm breath on the back of my neck and the way his hands had kneaded dough like it was an art. We hadn't spoken the rest of the day, busy with our respective tasks. Sunday was much the same to my dismay, him only nodding in approval as I helped make cinnamon rolls once more.

The house was eerily quiet, with everyone gone—Prim at school, Ross at the bakery, and my mom working at the health food store downtown. I hadn't had the desire to do anything all day, enjoying the feeling of no responsibility and being able to read _Pride and Prejudice_ without snide remarks from Marvel in regards to how it would do me no good to read silly romance novels. The classics were important and this book was a particular favorite.

I was currently at the part when Lizzie's friend tells her she is marrying Mr. Collins, a pivotal moment in the book, but I could no longer focus and Atlas was picking up on my restlessness. He'd been pacing and making sighing sounds for the last half hour. I could see him from the corner of my eye about to start pacing again and I'd had enough.

"Okay, we're going somewhere, calm your damn paws," I all but yelled exasperatedly.

He followed hot on my trail as I pilfered my keys from my purse and slid my sunglasses onto my face. It was a hurried bound down the porch and into my truck—both of us excited to be leaving for the first time in days. I rolled down the window for the dog and cranked the music, blasting "Blank Space" by Taylor Swift.

I usually hated her music but I'd caught this song on the radio a few weeks ago into my drive up the coast, and it just stuck. Catchy music was good for that...sticking in your head until you just had to listen to it again.

_'Cause we're young and we're reckless__  
__We'll take this way too far__  
__It'll leave you breathless__  
__Or with a nasty scar__  
__Got a long list of ex-lovers__  
__They'll tell you I'm insane__  
__But I've got a blank space, baby__  
__And I'll write your name_

_Boys only want love if it's torture__  
__Don't say I didn't say, I didn't warn ya__  
__Boys only want love if it's torture__  
__Don't say I didn't say, I didn't warn ya_

I wasn't really paying attention to anything but the music as I was singling along and bobbing my head to the beat, when a loud whistle caught my attention. My truck slowed and I looked towards the origin of the sound, Peeta waving from the porch of the bakery, a big smile in place. I waved back stiffly, trying to swallow the mortification I was feeling by being caught blasting Swifty.

Four songs and the entire town of Mason later, I decided I'd stop by the bakery and have a snack. It was almost closing time and I knew Ross wouldn't mind some help cleaning up; it'd free him and Peeta up to do prepping for the morning.

I maneuvered into the narrow alley, letting the dog out and telling him to stay put in the bed of the truck. As long as some convincing human didn't waltz by with a snack, he'd stay. That damn dog would do anything for food—you would think I never fed the poor guy.

The aroma of baking cheese buns assaulted my nose as I pushed open the bakery door. An appreciative groan escaped my lips as I spied a fresh pan cooling on the rack. No one was in the kitchen, thus leaving me to my own devices. Those buns were mine.

A whole one fit in my mouth, making me have chipmunk cheeks and another one was in my hand before I'd even had time to think better of it. I thought I was in the clear to stuff the other in my mouth, but Peeta rounded the corner, smacking right into me.

_Hmmph._ He stepped back, shaking his head. "Oh, Katniss, I'm so...Hey, what's up with your cheeks?" he asked innocently, even though I'm sure he could already see an empty spot on the rack behind me.

I tried to smile around the bun, shrugging my shoulders like I had no idea what he was talking about. He stepped forward, grinning, and I stepped backwards. We continued this dance until he had cornered me against the back door. His large, warm hands grabbed my wrist from behind my back, examining the contents.

"Aha! Caught you red handed, you're just as bad as a raccoon," he chided poking my right cheek.

I glared angrily and chewed my cheese bun up, finally swallowing it about 30 seconds later. "Excuse me, I am not like a raccoon. I don't take everything and anything okay. These buns are my weakness," I explained fervently.

"Sure, whatever you say, Katniss. But these buns aren't free, you must work for food." Peeta reached passed me and produced a large broom, waggling his eyebrows.

"Yeah, yeah. I was already here to do that anyway. Your dad said something this morning about never having any decent help."

"Wounded. That statement wounds me dad," he yelled loudly. Even though he didn't know what his son was talking about, I could hear Ross laughing heartily in the front.

"Well, Master. May I be dismissed to fulfill my duties as kitchen slave?"

"Yes, you may go now." He moved to the right and extended his arm out, gesturing for me to be on my way.

I flashed a cheeky grin and curtsied before leaving. I could tell he was trying extremely hard not to laugh, his face turning red from the taxing effort.

It was six o'clock on the dot when a knock on the bakery's back door interrupted Prim and I ganging up on Ross about messing up his own recipe for Chicken Pot Pie. I wasn't sure what he'd done wrong with the dough, but it had come out so poorly no one could eat it. We'd even offered it to the dog, who had turned up his nose at it.

"I'll get it, someone decide on a takeout place please! I can't eat any more cheese buns or they're going to go straight to my buns!" I declared, bounding around the corner and into the kitchen. I wasn't quite sure who would be knocking at this time, maybe one of Peeta or Ross's friends.

Three people were standing on the other side of the door, only one vaguely familiar. They barged past me, clearly on a mission. "Well, please why don't you come in," I muttered to myself as I closed the door and followed.

"Hey, long time no see guys!" I could hear Peeta's warm voice declare before I rounded the corner. They had sat down at the table, a blonde girl occupying the seat where I had been moments before.

"Katniss, these two are Finnick and Annie, and this is my girlfriend Delly!" Peeta gestured to the bronze-haired, green-eyed man and the brunette with greener eyes, sitting in his lap, and then to the blonde. My hand motioned in a small wave and a sat down next to Prim.

"We thought we'd drop by and invite you out Peeta. You know what they say, 'all work and no play, makes Peeta a dull boy'", chided Finnick.

Peeta looked like he was about to turn them down when Delly grabbed his hand and kissed it, pleading with him to go with them. It took all I had not to visibly gag at her attempts to persuade the blonde-haired baker otherwise. He finally acquiesced and the group excitedly stood up.

"We'll see you down Capital City in say 20 minutes, love you baby." Delly kissed his cheek and walked off, bumping into my extended leg. She didn't apologize but instead gave me this look like my leg was there on purpose to trip her.

"Nice to meet you Katniss," Annie said with a wave as she walked by. I offered a smile in return and agreed.

Peeta stood up and set his apron on the table, wiping his hands across his khaki work pants. "Looks like I don't have to pick food out anymore, which is always a bonus. Don't worry, Dad, I'll be in bed by 11 so I can do bread at 5."

"I know you will, Son. You always show up to work, even when you're dying—I wouldn't expect any less from you."

They continued a few more exchanges but I tuned them out, instead finding a hang nail on my hand ten times more interesting than what was going on around me. I wasn't until I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder, that I paid attention.

I was met with crisp, blue eyes and blonde curls. "Did you wanna go? It's just a bar with a small kitchen in the back that can make snacks, there's a dance floor, pool, and darts."

How could I possibly deny this good-looking man anything. I did trust my voice not to shake if I answered, so I enthusiastically nodded. Peeta flashed a large smile and told me he'd be down in ten minutes.

While I waited, I listened to Ross and Prim argue over burgers or Mexican food for dinner, with my mom finally having to weigh in to ease the tension. Neither prevailed, as she declared that they'd be having BBQ for dinner.

This. Family. Love. Bantering. Playfulness. Routine. I'd missed it all—college life didn't offer such luxuries. It offered experience and learning and good times, but none of the things you really needed at the end of the day. My arms wrapped around Prim and squeezed. She reciprocated and I left the table, having impeccable timing as I opened the door to leave. Peeta was just making his way down .

He looked damn good in a fitted, red flannel button down, dark-washed jeans, and brown boots. His fit physique was outlined and I stared unabashedly as neared with each step. He looked as though he'd tried to tame his curls but the bouncing freed them, allowing them to fall across his forehead.

"I hope you don't think we're taking your truck, mine's clearly so much better."

"Not even going to argue with you, but you will have to listen to direction then."

"You implying that I can't take directions, dear Sir?"

"I never said that, but I do recall having to provide my services of direction in certain matters just the other day." He raised one eyebrow in my direction, illiciting a blush. It was amazing how he could make "services of direction" sound so very unclean and frankly, naughty.

It took only one snide comment and three turns later to arrive at our destination. I parked off to the side, taking precaution against drunk people who would later be leaving. No one was going to hit my beauty. Peeta held the door open for me, insisting ladies first, and I rolled my eyes in protest and marched forward.

His friends and girlfriend were directly in front of us, engrossed in a game of pool. Not even hallway over there, they were cheering his arrival, and Delly was sending daggers.

_This night was going to be one for the books._


	6. Chapter 5

For a weeknight, Capital City was jam-packed. It was nearing the holidays, Thanksgiving was right around the corner, and it looked like all the college kids, high school kids, and just any other person who didn't have something better to do, was here tonight. A country song was blasting over the speaker system and the rhythmic stomps of a line-dance all but tuned out my conversation with Annie.

In the two hours I'd been here, we'd exchanged a hand full of comical stories about college. She'd only been out a year like me and she met Finnick at the gas station here when she was passing through. Like a corny romance novel, it was "love at first site" and she'd stayed. Personally, sounds almost creepy to me, like a horror movie instead of a love one.

"You ladies are missing quite the fun out there! I think I've danced every song in the last hour. All these girls keep hitting on me but I tell them I've got eyes for one girl only and she's waiting for me at the table," Finnick gushes as he takes a seat next to Annie, immediately picking up her hand. The loving looks they exchange make cheeks color, I feel as though I'm invading a private morning and look away towards the dancing mass.

I instantly spot Peeta's blonde mop and he's slow dancing with Delly, his cheek pressed against the top of her head. They make a beautiful couple, they look like they were designed for one another. Her height compliments his and their hair is almost the same bright blonde. They're in the midst of a turn and I cross paths with unnaturally blue eyes as he looks up. He stares for another ten seconds or so but Delly says something and he looks back down to her.

An unknown feeling washes over me and suddenly I just feel like the entire bar is closing in, smothering me with its bustling atmosphere. Quietly, I let the two lovebirds know I'll be back shortly and head to the bar, flagging down the bartender. Warm, amber liquid burns down my throat as I tip back a shot and then I follow it with the hoppy, smooth taste of my golden ale.

Outside, the air is cool and a welcome relief from the stuffiness inside. I leaned against the railing on the bar's porch, staring up at the bright belt of stars. I could never see the lights in Panem; the city lights were always to bright, occluding the sheer nighttime beauty. This was something you could never get tired of—millions of balls of gas decorating the blackness.

The minutes ticked by as my grey eyes remained looking up, reveling in the quite stillness of the outside, before I heard the familiar _thwack_ of a door slamming shut. My eyes deviated to the figure approaching me, a wide smile in place.

"I was wondering where you ran off to. I came back to the table and Annie said you'd been gone for at least half an hour." His voice was a warm timbre, melting into the night.

"Sorry, I just got too hot in there and thought I'd come outside to cool down. I wasn't paying attention to the time—too busy admiring the stars," I offered in explanation.

His arm brushed against mine, leaving goosebumps in its path, as he joined me against the railing. "They are something. When we first moved here, I used to go up to the apartment roof and lay on a blanket, watching them for hours. You couldn't see them at all where I used to live, I'd grown up for years not knowing I was missing a thing."

"Yeah, Panem was like that too. That's just another plus about coming home."

"I could see that, what other pluses are there," he questioned, his tone becoming curious.

"Prim. It broke my heart to leave but you can only be strong so long before it just wears you down, you know? I raised her for years after my father died, my mom just checked out, and I became her whole world. There's never been a harder choice for me to make." Peeta's warm hand slowly crept over to mine and gave it a small squeeze.

"Prim, she's just lovely and I haven't met a purer person or one with such a big heart. She's gonna go places Katniss and I haven't seen her ever smile so big as she does when you're around. Her love for you is endless, okay? I just want you to know that as a person who has been here in your absence, you're her whole world too." He sounded so honest and sincere and convicting in his words—this boy had a heart just like Prim, and in that very moment, I knew he wouldn't be hard to love at all, which only spelled trouble for me.

"Thank you," I spoke softly as I turned to look at him. He gave a brief smile and held out his hand, waiting for me to take it. I did and he pulled me back inside, directly towards the dance floor.

He yelled over Otis Redding's "Try a Little Tenderness", "I actually came back to the table to ask you if you wanted to dance, Delly kept stepping on my feet and after 6 songs of it, I'd had enough. I love to dance but not with someone stepping on my toes every two seconds."

I laughed and he pulled me close. We slowed danced at first but as the tempo increased, he began to spin me around and started doing movements that looked similar to swing meeting jiving—the man could move... as if he wasn't already sexy enough. At one point, he was singing loudly off key and on his knees in front of me, emphasizing the lyrics. I'm sure I was the color of a tomato. By the end of the song, everyone around us was clapping. Peeta took a bow and we sauntered through the crowd, to our table.

"Man, your moves have only gotten better since college!" Finnick stated, clapping Peeta on the back when he sat down.

The baker was about to say something to his best friend, already opening his mouth, but Delly cut him off. "Why don't you ever dance with me like that?" She crossed her arms in front of her and pouted, staring pointedly at Peeta.

"I try, but you always step on my feet," Peeta admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, sorry, we can't all be good at dance or look like her!" With that, the blonde stood up with an angry huff and disappeared towards the bathrooms.

The awkward silence that descended over the table was deafening and no one dared to say one word. Finally, Peeta stood up and headed in the direction his girlfriend had disappeared.

"Sorry, Katniss. Delly's not normally like that but she is used to getting all the attention he has to offer. She's actually really sweet and I feel terrible you had to see her act like that." Annie spoke quietly, her melodic voice trying to reassure me of the situation.

My bottom lip made several rolls through my teeth as I tried to formulate a response that wouldn't make me sound a) jealous, b) a bitch or c) mad or a combination of the three.

"It's alright Annie, some people just act like petulant children and throw tantrums when they don't get what they want. We've all done it but perhaps no so publicly."

It was obvious that the shit-eating grin Finnick wore, that he agreed and was trying hard to contain his laughter at my honest, curt words. Annie blushed and nodded her head in agreement.

"Can you guys take Peeta home? I think it's best if I just go ahead and go—don't want to cause anymore problems."

"No problem. It was great meeting you Katniss, I really like you. Wish the night would have gone better," responded Finnick, bringing me in for a brief hug.

"Thank you, I like you guys too. Don't be strangers, swing by the bakery on Saturday and we can sit down and have some coffee." With a brief wave, I headed out the door and into the night.

Hey, guys! Sorry there wasn't much to the chapter, but I wanted to update. Please let me know what you think. Feedback is super important to me, as are your thoughts! Thank you again for reading, hope you enjoyed Peeta's dancing—it's kind of like the scene from Dirty Dancing.


	7. Chapter 6

Thanksgiving at our house had been an absolute fun mess. We'd managed to dry out the turkey and burn the rolls, but somehow it turned out good anyways. Peeta and I had been skirting around one another every time we crossed paths. I caught him staring at me several times, looking as though he wanted to say something, but he never did. Delly had probably giving him a good thrashing that night at the bar.

It was obvious the rest of the family had noticed the tension but no one asked questions either, instead they idled chatted and stuffed their mouths with whatever they could scoop of their plates. Secretly, I longed for Peeta just to say anything—this awkward situation was driving me up the wall. Maybe tomorrow morning when I went with Prim into the bakery for her usual weekend shift, I could corner him in a nonchalant way and make it known I wasn't worried about what had happened last week.

"Katniss, want to share this sweet bread with me?" inquired my sister from the other side of my door.

"Sure, Prim. Come on in, watch the dog though, he's laying right in the middle of the walk way always." Atlas never seemed to want to lay anywhere but in the most inconvenient spots.

She slowly pushed the door open and stepped over the German Shepherd who didn't even lift his head from the floor when she came in. Lazy dog.

The bed dipped beneath her weight and I shimmied to the right, allowing her to have more room on the double mattress."Did Ross just make that or what?" I asked before grabbing a piece of the loaf.

"Yes, he had just set it out to cool and walked off to tell Mom something. I took an opportunity where I saw one. He'll probably scold me later for it but it's just so good."

And it was good. It still was warm from the oven and it was soft, pulling apart easily with each bite. Colored sugar lingered on the top and added a small, sweeter kick than the bread already had. If I wasn't careful, I was going to gain 20 pounds from bread alone.

After finishing my piece, Prim and I talked about the last bit of school she had before winter break. She was very excited to be off from school for 3 weeks but when she told me Rory would be going to the other side of the country to see his family, it was obvious she was sad. I relentlessly teased her about liking the younger Hawthorne brother but she still wouldn't admit it to me.

The conversation faded away and I stroked my fingers through her golden locks that were fanned out across my blue bed spread. I'd thought she was asleep until she quietly mumbled something. "What was that, Little Duck?"

She rolled onto her side, facing me. Her doe, blue eyes staring back at me with curiosity. "I asked what happened between you and Peeta. It's like you two had a fight or something."

"It's nothing Prim, we're fine. Besides, it's not like he's my best friend of something. He's just the son of our mother's almost fiance/husband."

"Bullshit, Katniss!"

My head jerked back in surprise with my sister's remark. I hadn't once heard her curse and to hear it now, over Peeta, was just a tad unsettling.

"Delly pitched a fit last week when I was at the bar with Annie, Finnick, and Peeta. Her disdain was palpable when I showed up but as the night went on, she just became insufferable. She was squawking like the chickens used to do when we chased them as kids."

Prim threw her head back and laughed at my comparison of the baker's girlfriend to chickens. "You've got to be kidding, right? She did not through a tantrum."

"I'm not, after she walked off I told Annie and Finnick that she was acting like a petulant child. She got so angry over Peeta dancing once dance with me."

"She's trouble, that one. I love everyone Katniss, and I mean everyone, but not her. She just gives me the creeps when she visits the bakery. I've never seen someone as clingy as her. One time, he was showing me how to clean the mixer and she wanted something from him, but he had told her to wait, and she stomped her foot. Like who stomps their foot anymore?"

Watching Prim's face as she described the scene had my in tears from laughing so hard. She looked so appalled and disgusted which was so unusual for my caring, baby sister. Prim did love everyone, it was just her nature. That alone made my flags raise up—I'd have to keep an eye on Delly in the future.

"I'm not even sure what he sees in her. He never talks about her when she isn't around and when she calls, he gets this look as though he rather be run over 10 times than talk to her. If you two ever stop being awkward again, you should get him liquored up and ask. Personally, he should date you."

"Primrose Rae Everdeen!" I scolded, "I cannot wrap my head around the fact you just told me to get Peeta liquored up and take advantage of his drunken state to grill him. You're 16, you're not supposed to know things like that," I said exasperatedly, giving her a small shove in the shoulder.

"I don't live under a rock, Kat. And I caught you! You do like Peeta." She waggled her eye brows and a huge grin lined her face.

_Fuck, way to go Katniss. You walked right into that one. Shit. _"I do not! I was just so shocked you suggested taking advantage of a sweet guy you consider to be your brother! Nice people such as yourself don't suggest situations like that." By the end of my less-than convincing face, I could feel the flush creeping down my neck from embarrassment.

"Hey, whatever you need to tell yourself. You like Peeta and I'm pretty sure it wouldn't take much for him to show Delly out the door. Besides, if ya'll got married, he really would be my brother." With that, she was out the door, leaving me bumbling like an idiot with no chance to reply.

"Ugh," I breathed out as I fell backwards into my collection of pillows. _I was so in it now. _

Hope you enjoy this update! Sorry it's a little short, but I wanted there to be just a chapter of Katniss and Prim bonding. Love how Prim is being sneaky and ousting her big sis ;) Leave a review, let me know what you think. Next chapter will take place the next morning after this, with Katniss making all sorts of mistakes at the bakery because she's nervous around Peeta and Prim.


	8. Chapter 7

"Shit, shit, shit!" I yelled, yanking my hand back from the hot pan of cheese buns. In my hurry and mindless state, I'd grabbed the pan without a pot holder. They went clanking to the floor, rolling in several different directions. I'd already dropped several cinnamon rolls earlier while trying to bag them for a customer and was sent back here.

I'd been jumpier than a rabbit and apparently had left my mind at home. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I was so incredibly nervous. I wanted to point the finger at Prim for her comment from yesterday but it was hard to bring myself to blame my sweet baby sister for anything.

Lost in my own daze, I hadn't paid attention to the voice talking to me until a large hand grabbed my shoulder—I jerked instantly and turned towards the offending person. Naturally, it had to be Peeta.

"You okay? How's your hand?" he asked kindly, prying it away from its currently crossed position against my chest. It was bright red with a small blister across the top of my palm. He let out an appreciative whistle. "Fine job of burning yourself there. Where's your head at Kat?"

I stared down, trying to will the blush that was creeping up my neck to stay down and not color my cheeks. His warm, calloused hands were sending tingles up my arm. I shrugged my shoulders in response to his question and headed towards the office where the first aid kit was. He followed hot on my heels.

I fumbled with the white metal case, trying to pry the locks off with my left hand, but I lacked the dexterity necessary to do so. Two frustrated sighs later, Peeta chuckled and took it from me. "You sit down, let me do it."

Rolling my eyes at being told what to do, I bit my lip, sealing my smart remark in as I sat down. He popped the case open easily and dug through each section, pulling several items out. The supplies were readied with such ease, that it was obvious he'd tended to burns before. Maybe his own or maybe Ross's.

"Peet?" chimed the familiar sing-song voice of Prim.

"In here."

Prim rounded the entrance to the office and let out a small gasp. "Wow, that looks like it hurts." She walked closer and picked up my hand, turning it under the light. "Looks easily like a partial-thickness burn, second-degree. Didn't anyone tell you not to play with hot things?" She waggled her eye-brows and winked before walking back towards the door.

Sweet, innocent little Prim was growing up right before my eyes. Making lewd innuendos and using her in-school nursing classes to diagnosis my hand. Gosh, did she make me proud and want to smother her all at the same time.

"Oh! I almost forgot to even tell you what I came back here for; Delly's upfront asking for you. I think her parents are with her too. I'll tell her you need a few."

The tall, blonde baker looked like he was ready to bust. His curls had fallen into his face and were sticking to his forehead. Without much thought, I reached up with my good hand and brushed them aside. He let out a low cough and looked up at me with his unnaturally blue eyes.

Red colored my cheeks at the intensity of his stare and hurriedly I offered up a quick sorry. It hurt as he cleaned up the burn and wiped on a thick, clear ointment carefully avoiding popping the blister. He applied a bandage and then wrapped my hand with gauze.

"Just keep it clean and be careful not to pop the blister. It's not the end of the world but it helps protect it from infection. If you do pop it, it'll weep so you'll need to change the bandage more often. The store should have the stuff you need or you can just use this kit, and I'll replenish it later. Doesn't matter to me." He still hadn't let my hand go during his entire spiel.

"Oh, okay. Try my best not to use my hand. Glad I wasn't planning on going hunting in the next couple of days."

"You hunt? I woulda never guessed."

"Yes, with a bow. My dad taught me as a kid and I wanted to get back into it. My boyfriend, not boyfriend, whatever he is, he didn't like me going to the range to practice my skills. I've been wanting to get back into it since I've been back." My eyes were looking every where except at Peeta as I talked about Marvel.

"I didn't know you had a boy-" I was so ecstatic at that moment for the familiar, shrill tone of Delly's voice growing closer. That discussion was not one to be had now when we were in this tiny office with my hormones wanting me to jump him.

"Delly! Delly! You're not supposed to be back there. It's regulation!" yelled Prim angrily over the blonde woman yelling for Peeta.

Peeta knitted his brows and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in what I could only guess was pure frustration. _My god, what did he see in this girl?_ I asked myself while watching him brace himself for the wrath of his significant other.

"Peeta, what is taking you so long? We've been waiting over 20 minutes to see you. Prim said you'd be right there, ugh!" Her face was red and if she could have stuck her bottom lip out anymore, it could have been used as a step.

Peeta made a quick motion of his hand behind is back, indicating for me to stay put.

"I was just finishing something up in the office. It was important and this is my place of business; I don't have people to do things for me. I have to do it myself to be able to put a roof over my head and to buy stuff and to pay bills." I could tell by the stiffening of his broad-set, muscular shoulders that he was very close to loosing his temper.

"Gosh, you don't have to be so ugly about it, Peety," remarked Delly, pulling him along with her. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and flashed a small, sad smile in apology. Prim waited for the two to pass and pushed me back into the office.

"If you don't fix the Delly problem Katniss, so help me I'm going to whack her over the head with a rolling pin!" she threatened.

"It's not my problem to fix, Prim. He's a big boy and he made his bed, either he can lay in it or clean the sheets. I'm not doing it!" But in that moment, I really wanted to wanted to whack that girl over the head with the closet thing I could find.


	9. Chapter 8

"Dammit," I uttered in frustration as my arrow missed the mark for what seemed the 100th time. I'd been at this for hours and still hadn't hit the center of the target. My hand ached where the burn was healing and I was starting to go cross-eyed.

I threw down my bow and plopped down on the grass next to my dog. He took the opportunity to put his head in my lap and went back to snoozing. I'd never had this problem, not ever. Shooting a bow had been such a natural thing for me, I never had to work for it. I wasn't sure if it was the burn on my hand making my aim off or the fact that I couldn't go more than 5 minutes without thinking of warm skin or bright blue eyes or beautiful blond curls—Peeta was going to be the death of me.

The blades of grass provided comfort as I rolled them between my middle finger and thumb. This past few weeks, I'd worked only two shifts and seen Peeta very little, which was such a blessing. It was hard not to want to ask him what he saw in Delly. With every interaction, I was more displeased with her as a person. Damn, I had my whiny or needy moments, but that girl took things to a new level.

He was laid back and sweet with a good sense of humor. The only vibes I'd gotten from her were spoiled and high-maintenance... but it is said that opposites attract. I'd never understand it, maybe I wasn't meant to. Peeta had grown to be my friend and if that insufferable women made him happy, then I'd keep my trap shut.

"Katniss! Oh Katnissss, lunch is ready," I could hear Prim faintly calling what from I assumed was the back porch. Altas' ears immediately perked at the intrusive voice and he bounded away, not even waiting to see if I was following. "Even my dog hates me," I muttered bitterly as I dusted my pants off.

The dried leaves and pine needles crunched beneath my Converse as I treked the short distance back to the house. I hung my bow and arrow sheath on the porch railing and walked into the house. My entire family was laughing when I walked into the dining room and as soon as they saw me, all exchanged knowing looks.

"What are those looks for?" I asked incredulously, becoming a little bit uneasy with the whole atmosphere. A few hushed chuckles passed their lips before my mother spoke up.

"Peeta called and asked us what we were up to while Ross was finishing up the salmon and we invited him to lunch."

"Awesome, super great," I muttered as I plopped down in my usual spot at the table. My face was beginning to cramp from the scowl that had managed to cross my face.

"Oh cheer up Katniss, he promised to leave Delly at home," Ross teased while placing a kiss on my hair.

"Thank heavens for that. I think this fork would have ended up in her leg within minutes of her being here."

"Now, honey," my mom begin to chastise me but Prim strategically captured her attention, effectively nipping that conversation in the bud before it could even really begin.

"Oh Lucy, I'm home!" sounded a warm voice from the front of the house. Heavy footfalls sounded, growing closer as their owner approached us. Peeta waltzed through the doorway, carrying a 12-pack of cokes and fresh done rolls of some sort. His blonde curls had been cut short since the last time I saw him, allowing a perfect view of his square jaw-line and unnaturally blue eyes. My eyes stayed glued to his form as he passed me on his way to the kitchen.

That man could not get any more sexier, and if he did, I'd melt into a damn puddle right here. His biceps were perfectly outlined by the maroon and white baseball shirt he was wearing, leaving nothing to the imagination. What I wouldn't do to run my hands up and down his arms.

"Quit, you're drooling big sister," Prim joked as she prodded my arm. I gasped and realized I'd been so obviously doing just that. _Shit, how embarrassing_, I thought to myself while wiping my mouth off and dropping my head on the table in shame.

"It's alright to think he's attractive Kat, because he is. But unless you're going to do something about it, I'd quit making it so clear that you think that."

"Alright, know it all baby sister."

She was about to make a snide comment or it looked like it by the way her nose scrunched up, but Peeta saved me by returning to sit down right next to us.

"Hiya, Katniss. Long time no see, huh?" He was flashing a 1000 kilowatt smile that stretched from ear to ear. This boy seemed to be in a perpetually good mood, as though nothing sad or terrible had ever happened to him. Hell, for all I know, that could be the case.

"Hey, Peeta," I responded, my voice suddenly becoming quieter and sweeter than it'd been just moments prior.

"I've got a question for you, Kat. I'm not sure if Prim has told you yet, but Rue is going to visit family in Texas, and I'll be needing a person for the morning shift for the next few weeks. I know you haven't applied for the guide position at the State Park yet and you already know how the bakery works, and you've got free time... I, uh, thought maybe you'd wanna work. I'll pay you whatever you like and you don't have to help prep or-"

I didn't quite catch the last part of Peeta's rambling due to my attention being diverted by a sharp pinch to my ribs. Prim looked so sweet and innocent, but she could go to bat if the occasion called for it. And by her painful interference, I guess this was one of those times.

"I'd love to Peeta. I need to work on my customer service and cinnamon roll skills, but please, don't let me near the ovens. My burn is only just now letting up." I lifted my hand and pointed, providing evidence for my statement. _ Work on my customer service? Katniss, are you kidding me?_ I mentally yelled at myself for sounding so stupid. What was it about this baker that made me loose my ever-living mind? Katniss Everdeen is not a love-struck teenager, not now, not ever... Or maybe I was.

My internal monologue came to a sudden close when I felt warm tingles up my arm. I glanced down to see Peeta cradling my right hand in his, outlining the pink flesh with his index finger. He had beautiful hands and every so often, in the right lighting, you could see faint pink marks from previous burns or childhood injuries—I'd never had the courage to really ask him about them. But since we'd been spending at least the next 21 days together, for at least 6 hours a day, I'd have plenty of time to develop the courage to ask. And unfortunately, I'd be seeing even more of that hideous blonde girlfriend of his. Great.

"Ahem, ya'll ready to eat or are we interrupting?" asked Peeta's father from the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. My cheeks begia to burn and I could feel my ears catching fire, too.

"Starved, let's eat!" I rushed with a little too much enthusiasm, but I add to curb my pounding heart somehow. I glanced out of the corner of my eyes, and I could see Peeta's cheeks covered with a light pink hue as well. Least I wasn't the only one who wanted to suddenly disappear.

Parents.


	10. Chapter 9

The days working at the bakery had flown by and before I'd even had the chance to breath, my time here as a full-time employee was coming to a close. Rue was due back day after tomorrow and I wasn't quite sure how I felt about it. I'd grown to love the people that religiously came into Mellark's every morning and it was nice to feel like I really belonged in this town.

Growing up and especially in high school, people just knew me as the girl who's father had passed away and her mother had gone crazy because of it. Years away though, and maybe the presence of Ross in my mom's life, had pushed that notion from the locals' minds and they treated me no different from the next girl.

"That'll be $3.79, Haymitch," I reminded by favorite customer as I poured him a cup of dark roast and placed a cheese danish on the counter.

"I know Sweetheart, it's the same every damn day," he muttered as he placed 4 one's on the counter. His harsh tone had rubbed me the wrong way at first, but after watching him intereract with other people, I'd come to learn that was just Haymitch. The only exception to his sandpaper attitude was when he was dealing with Effie Trinket, our local newspaper editor.

Those two could not be more different if they tried. She was bubbly, loquacious, and nosy to boot. Haymitch was quiet, gruff, and just seemed to really be put off by everything. I'd asked Peeta one day after work about them and he just shook his head and laughed. If you didn't love Effie, this town wasn't for you, Haymitch included.

"Always a pleasure," I chuckled, sliding his change across the counter. The corners of his mouth moved a tad, like he was almost going to smile, as he dropped the coins in the tip jar. That man was a handful.

It was the morning lull, where everyone who was going to work had already come in, and those who ran morning errands or needed a "pick me up" hadn't graced us with their presence yet. I took the opportunity to see what Peeta was up to in the back.

Waltzing around the corner, I could see him hard at work frosting a large cake of some sort. His face was pensive as he piped the fine details onto the middle tier. Over the past weeks, my feelings for him at only magnified. As did my amazement and appreciation for the talent he had. Just last week, I discovered he was a wonderful artist. I'd heard brief musings about it discussed over family dinners and seen a few simple paintings done by him, but nothing that really said, "Jeez, this guy is a modern day Picasso". He hand painted a beautiful landscape using food dye and special pastes onto the side of a wedding cake for a couple who were getting married two towns over. When it was all said and done, it looked as though he had pasted a panoramic photo onto it; it was a perfect likeness.

His hands stilled in their ministrations, his voice not far behind. "I can't properly pipe when you standing behind me, staring Katniss." He didn't sound mad, but rather more annoyed with an underlying hint of teasing humor.

"Uh, I'm sorry. I.. uh, umm I didn't mean to interrupt you. I think I hear someone ringing the bell up front," I rushed out before he could even turn to look at me. My feet carried me hastily back out to the counter where nothing but silence waited for me. The burning sensation of my embarrassment was finally subsiding from my cheeks much to my relief.

Katniss Everdeen wasn't one to have her feathers ruffled so easily but it seemed that the tides were turning.

The day had been long and it still wasn't over yet. Peeta had asked me to stay and help do inventory of supplies and review the kitchen equipment and appliances for quarterly purposes. He'd spent all day working on the wedding cake and had done zero prepping for the next morning. From my perch in the office, I could hear the mixer kneading away at some sort of dough.

With a final review at my inventory lists, I closed the book and switched off the office light. Peeta was dusting his work station with flour and singing along with the music playing from his earbuds. I took the opportunity to watch him work, unnoticed, which was such a rarity for me. The _always_ knew when I was around, even if he didn't say anything I noticed the way his shoulders tensed and his breath caught.

With a precise and practiced manner, he scraped the dough from the steel bowl, onto the table. He kneaded the dough into the shape he wanted and begin rolling it out. I recognized he was going to make my arch nemesis, cinnamon rolls. Too concerned by watching the way his arms looked as he was manipulating the dough, I slid off the door jam and knocked into a cooling rack.

Moment ruined by yours truly. The blonde man jumped slightly and turned, a smile cracking on his lips as he took in my deer-in-the-headlights appearance. "Katniss, how are you such a skilled hunter and can be so quiet, but in this bakery, you're a bull in a China shop?" he chuckled.

"Just not my scene, I guess." I picked up the pans I knocked off and sheepishly sat on a stool next to him. Out of my periphery, I could see him start to say something several times but then stop. A few moments of awkward silence passed before he finally spoke again.

"So, this is my last pan of prep and then I'll be out of here. You're more than welcome to go, Kat. Besides, I know you're sitting there secretly making bitter remarks about these pastries".

Damn, he knew me so well. "No, I'll stay and keep you company. It's not like it's going to take you another two hours or something to do this one pan. You're damn skilled when it comes to these things."

He pat my shoulder softly, reassuring me in regards to my bitter tone. "It'll be okay, you'll master rolling these things eventually. And if not, I'll just let you man the counter forever. Haymitch loves you."

"Gee, thanks. Maybe if you were a better teacher, I'd be a better student in Cinnamon Rolls: 101." I tried my best not to crack a smile, silently gauging his reaction. He went from humorous to determined in 5 seconds flat.

"You know what, stand up. You're gonna get this down, even if we have to stay here all night."

My heart leaped at his words. Spending an entire night with this man who I'd come to love as a friend and like more than I should. Peeta was kind and endearing and always had everyone's best interests at heart. His passion for life never ceased to amaze me. To listen to him talk about the world, you'd think he'd seen it all and that he'd never seen anything bad in his life. It was refreshing, to be around someone who saw value in the littlest things.

"Fine. Better break out your patience, this could be the longest night of your life," I countered, my tone as equally determined as his.

Peeta took up residence behind me, placing his arms on either side of me. His well-muscled chest was barely touching my back but every nerve-ending in my body was on fire. How difficult this was going to be, trying to stay focused when I really just wanted to turn around and kiss the every living day lights out of him.

"Alright, now use both hands to roll the dough but remember to tuck it as tight as you can. That's the secret for when you cut it. If it's stable to begin with, then it wont' unroll when you begin to slice it."

I did exactly as he ordered, keeping the roll as bunched up as I could. When I released it, it for the first time ever, stay rolled in it's log fashion. I gleefully smiled and begin slicing away, doing my best to keep the circles even.

"Look at you, guess I'm not such a bad teacher after all," he remarked smugly.

"You know what, Peeta Mellark? I don't like your attitude, seems to me like you need to be reminded of your place in life." I whipped around, ready to assault him with pinches but it was him who assaulted me. His head was angled down and we were almost nose to nose, a brilliant smile on his beautiful face. My heart rate instantly kicked up and I tried to remind myself to keep breathing. Sure, we'd been this close before, but the moments were fleeting and not quite as intimate.

I tried to take a step back but was only met with the cold feeling of the metal table. Shakily I raised my grey eyes to meet his unnaturally blue ones, and saw nothing but confidence. Here I was, dying on the inside, and he looked completely unaffected by the current situation. Tension filled the room and if I'd had a knife handy, I could have cut a doughnut out of it like a cartoon.

Finally, he let out a shaky breath but didn't make any sort of move to widen the space between us. Softly, like the meticulous stroke of a paintbrush on a canvas, his fingers moved up my arm and caressed by cheek. My skin was left on fire in the wake of his actions. I wouldn't have been surprised if he could hear my heart racing.

I was trying my damnedest to figure out what was going on, but his eyes gave away nothing. He still wore a smile but it had lessened into a softer one... like a smile of someone who was gazing at something breathtaking that they'd never seen before.

I could see a slight smattering of freckles along his nose and the shadows that his blonde lashes cast upon his cheeks, small things I'd never been given the chance to appreciate before. A dusky pink colored his full lips and slight scruff lined his defined jaw. Peeta Mellark, excuse the cliché, was a work of art. My eyes kept switching from his eyes to his lips, my brain and heart fighting with each other to have the first word. Question this or kiss him.

Questioning him won out, the logical side never backing down. My lips parted to protest this, the beginning of his name already on my lips, but halted by the pad of his thumb stroking my bottom lip. I looked up, hoping he would provide at least one answer to the million different inquiries running circles in my mind.

And boy did I get an answer. Meeting his gaze again, apparently was all the conformation Peeta needed for whatever inner battle he was waging against himself. He closed the minute distance between us, capturing my bottom lip between his dusky pink ones.


End file.
